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TAILS OF BRASIL--The Iceman Cumeth


Guest Gringo
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Posted

Talk about service and marketing---Brasil has perfected it. If you need it or want it, it can be delivered. All over the city men carry, push and peddle styrofoam ice coolers and ovens on the backs of bicycles and motorcycles. They bring pizza, beer, hot coffee, sandwiches, rent-a-dick wherever and whenever it’s needed. The elevators actually have live attendants. Bingo palaces are open around the clock for your convenience. There is even a bank that is open 30 hours a day at your service!! How they manage that I'm not quite sure…but I like the concept. This brings me to the tale of the iceman.

 

Wandering about the city late at night, as is my want, I discover the nocturnal inhabitants. I am walking near the Opera House when the iceman, peddling his bicycle with a melting block of ice, passes me. He extends his arm and raises his thumb to the sky. This is a common gesture in Brasil meaning "Hello. All is well?” I notice he was wearing a red and black t-shirt, the colors of Flamengo. So I raise my thumb and yell "FLAMENGO!!" He stops and peddles back to me….the mating dance begins. Usually there is the courtesy of some small talk. Not tonight. Paulo is working and the water is dripping from his basket. I hesitate. It’s usually good to do that in Brasil.

 

He speaks very little English. But he assures me that he has skills and tools that will delight. I hesitate. There are three uniformed policemen standing on the corner half a block away. Maybe something is not quite right tonight. I am not comfortable. I tell Paulo that I am tired and have no desire. He assures me that he has enough desire for two. I like that concept too. I hesitate again, decline his invitation and walk toward the policemen.

 

A few minutes later, I take a seat on a bench two blocks away in a placed called Praca Floriano in front of the Theatro Municipal. I light up a cigarette and watch the late night parade of people---small children sniffing glue, late nighters hurrying home, some cardboard people scouting out a place to sleep, the late shift working boys. Down the promenade comes the iceman. There are vendors with ice coolers selling beers and sodas. The iceman stops to ask if they need a refill. Then he sees me. He jumps off his bike and sits down on the bench to talk some more. The mating dance continues. I tell him I do not know him and I am afraid that he might be a thief. He assures me he is not a thief and puts his hand on my leg. His touch is soft. I hesitate. I tell him I am afraid I will fall asleep and awake to find my clothes gone. Leaning close to my ear, he whispers slowly as if speed and pronunciation were the answer to international peace----"I will not take your money or your clothes, but I may steal your heart."

 

A motel offering rental by the hour is always near by. I hesitate one more time. This man has a certain charm. The dance has been a success. I decide to take a chance with this iceman. The flow feels good. Janis Joplin is singing somewhere in the distance "Don't turn your back on love."

 

Falling asleep now, I can still feel the vibration of his love making. We made love like tigers as the ice melted. He may have taken a piece of my heart with him as he had warned me---but I have more to give another night.

Posted

:-) thanks 4 the compliment gulliver. i often have magic moments like this in brasil. it just takes a while 2 stop and put them into words. xoxx

Posted

;-)Surely there are others out there who have had unexpected encounters beyond the sauna. Anybody out there?

Posted

Gulliver, while I read Gringo's brief narrative, I empathized; it seemed as if I sat on that park bench in the dark conversing with that "hot" Latin man who was sporting a turgid rod to use in me as well as have my mouth bring him to a gushing climax. Our fellow correspondent and traveler definitely knows how to write in such a manner to peek our interest and excitement!

 

Keep writing, Gringo!

Posted

Gringo, although I had only limited sauna experiences (expect to have many, many, many more when I return for eleven days in Feb/March and later in April)-- two other correspondents wrote previously. One had a descriptive, detailed adventure with a taxi driver; the other had a hunk at the military museum. Their stories are in those archives, somewhere! Good luck in finding and reading about these adventures...

Posted

:9 i haven't had 2 many men tell me they might steal my heart away. i just couldn't pass up that adventure. grinding away while that ice melted away added an edge of sweet decadence.

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